


Broken

by KatieComma



Category: Leverage
Genre: Anal Sex, And Not Between The OT3, Angst, But It's WAY In the Past and It's Only Intuited Not Talked About, First Time, Fluff, Get Together, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Multi, OT3, Smut, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Eliot is broken. He knows this. So he knows he's not worthy of the two people he cares about most.It's a good thing they feel differently.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 27
Kudos: 190





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Orianess for the beta on this one!
> 
> I JUST finished watching this series and I would DIE FOR THE OT3!!! I love them SOOO MUCH!!!!
> 
> It should be noted though:
> 
> \- This is my first foray into this fandom... so be kind
> 
> \- I wrote most of this when I'd only seen S1-2... because I had to order S3-5 since they're not available to stream or purchase digitally in my country.

Eliot is damaged. He knows this. There are scars inside and out. He’s not dumb, though he likes to play it sometimes, and he knows he’s a broken person.

And now he’s in love with not just one, but two people, and he has no idea what to do with that.

Eliot can kill a guy with his bare hands. He can look at tactics from any angle and come out the winner. He can make a badass grilled shrimp with lime zest. And he can excel in bed with both men and women.

But love? What the fuck does Eliot Spencer know about love? Absolutely fucking nothing. The one person he ever really loved, he walked away from. Because Eliot doesn’t deserve happiness. He knows this. At his core he is a bad person who does bad things.

The two people he loves would tell him that they’re bad people too. But they’re wrong. They’re misguided, they’re not bad. Not the way Eliot is. Bruised apples compared to one that’s rotten to the core.

Their goodness shows through when they carry Eliot back to their hotel room in Philly after the job is done.

The job was a success, which unfortunately means that Eliot got beat to shit. Which is pretty much par for the course. As their hitter, and their only hitter, he often goes up against groups of thugs alone. Although, Hardison can definitely hold his own (and look damn fine doing it). Despite being a computer nerd the guy carries a pretty impressive amount of muscle on his tall lithe frame. But Hardison had other duties tonight, and Eliot was on his own.

Hardison uses that impressive muscle to hold Eliot up easily while Parker opens the door and leads them into the darkness of their hotel room. She rushes into the room, hugging the wall dramatically while she checks for intruders, going so far as to look under the bed.

The door clicks closed behind them as Parker checks the bathroom, and then flicks on all the room lights.

“Did we stock the mini fridge with beer?” Eliot grunts. 

Hardison shifts a little, redistributing weight and suddenly Eliot is jolted with pain, making him grit his teeth and groan.

“We did not,” Parker pouts, ignoring his show of pain.

“Alright man, let’s get you cleaned up,” Hardison says, moving toward the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m a big boy, I can do it myself,” Eliot grits out.

“Oh? Oh really? Is that so?” Hardison asks. “Huh. Ok.” He lets go of Eliot suddenly.

Eliot’s legs are weak, one knee in rough shape from a bad hit, and his adrenaline spike is wearing off leaving him dangerously tired. He wavers on his feet. His brain says: walk to the bathroom; his body doesn’t listen, and he stumbles back a few steps and falls onto the bed, almost bouncing off the edge from how hard he drops.

Parker grins.

Hardison raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you just trying to get to the bathroom? Don’t let me stand in your way.” He steps aside dramatically, flourishing like a bull fighter.

“I think I’ll just get some sleep first,” Eliot says. “I can shower in the morning. No big deal.”

“Come on man, don’t be a child,” Hardison says. “You are covered in mud, and you were just sliced and diced by some Yakuza guy with a big sword. So just let us help you, ok?”

“It was a katana, and I’m fine,” Eliot insists.

Parker’s eyes search the ceiling like she’s reading something out of thin air. “It’s very likely you’ll get an infection, even with our help,” she says. “So I think you should let us help you. You’ll probably be even more grumpy with an infection. I’d like to avoid it at all costs.”

Eliot sighs. They’re not wrong. But the last thing he needs is to be dragged into the bathroom and helped into the shower by one of the people he’s developed feelings (romantic and sexy) for.

Honestly he’d rather go to the hospital than stand close to Hardison in a steamed up bathroom. But the hospital is out of the question when you’re a bad guy. Even if you are really a good guy in disguise.

“Fine!” Eliot barks, trying to stand up but falling back to the bed again and grunting in frustration.

“Aw, ain’t he so cute,” Hardison teases in the lispy southern drawl he uses for cover sometimes.

Parker laughs her perfect little laugh that’s understated and not really all that girly, but somehow manages to be the cutest shit ever. “Totally cute,” she says as though it’s the truth and not just a joke.

Eliot growls and gives her one of his scarier faces. Her smile gets a little wider, and he rolls his eyes and gives up, holding out an arm for Hardison.

Hardison pulls him to standing and puts an arm around him again. Eliot’s arm snakes around Hardison’s neck, and despite the height difference it’s a perfect fit that makes him ache. But Eliot’s used to aches and pains, this lovesickness thing is just another one he’ll have to push through.

They wander into the bathroom, and Hardison’s peeling off Eliot’s shirt when Parker strides in and turns on the water.

“No, no, no,” Eliot says, pulling his shirt back down. “What are you doing Parker?”

“We’re helping,” she says, looking at Hardison as though she feels like she missed something. “I thought we discussed this.”

“Hardison can help me just fine,” Eliot says.

“I don’t think so,” she says with scoff, “team effort like always.” She slips her shirt over her head, tossing it to the ground. Her black bra is a stark contrast to her pale skin. “Hardison keeps you standing, and I’ll scrub ya clean.” She says it like she’s talking about washing a car.

Eliot closes his eyes and breathes deep. “This is the worst idea either of you has ever had.”

Parker turns around and drops her pants, keeping her underwear in place she jumps up to sit on the counter next to the sink and wait for them. She looks up like she always does when she’s thinking. Her miles of pale skin are on display, hair coming loose in messy swirls from the braids she’d tied it up in earlier. Clever blue eyes dart back and forth as her mind runs.

Hardison pulls at Eliot’s shirt again, but Eliot slaps him away. “Lean me against the counter man, and I can undress by myself.”

“Alright, alright, jeez you’re touchy tonight,” Hardison says, maneuvering him to lean against the counter next to Parker, before he steps away to pull off his own shirt.

The room is filling with steam as Eliot slowly pulls the shirt up over his head grimacing and swallowing back pain every step of the way.

“Amsterdam,” Parker says suddenly with a grin.

“Amsterdam?” Hardison asks. His chest is bare now, his hands at the button of his jeans. And shit that’s an image that Eliot won’t soon forget; it will figure into many fantasies going forward. Hardison's chest is broad, just like his shoulders, and his arms are strong; Eliot knows from experience. His stomach isn’t chiseled, but soft little lines show the muscles leading down to where Hardison is dropping his jeans to the floor and he’s wearing… bright green boxer briefs. Of course he is. That perfect little touch of charisma that Hardison brings to absolutely everything.

“Yeah, Amsterdam was probably the worst idea I ever had. This doesn't even come close,” Parker says, breaking Eliot out of his daydream and back to reality where he should not be staring at Hardison’s underwear. She jostles Eliot’s shoulder and he narrows his eyes and grunts in return, which just makes her laugh.

“We never had a job in Amsterdam,” Hardison says as he gathers his clothing, folds it up and puts it on the counter.

“Naw, that was just me,” she says. “Went up against an Alister 43 Classic tumbler vault with a window of only seven minutes forty two seconds.” She pouts and shakes her head. “It didn’t end well.”

“This ain’t gonna end so well either,” Eliot says.

“Quit screwing around already,” Parker says, jumping from the counter and tackling Eliot’s belt with such deft fingers that he can’t even lift a hand to stop her before his pants fall around his ankles. How had he never thought about her hands that way before? His daydreams had always featured her mouth or… other parts… but she’s a thief with the best hands in the business, and now Eliot won’t be able to think of anything else when he fantasizes.

“There,” she says proudly, trotting to the shower and pulling back the curtain.

“Underwear too,” Hardison says, pointing at Eliot’s black boxer briefs.

“Whatever,” Eliot grumbles resigned to what’s happening now and getting so tired he’s not sure he’ll stay awake through the whole thing. At least exhaustion and injury will keep an inappropriate erection at bay. He hopes. He drops the underwear and tries to lean his weight back onto his own feet, stumbling a little. Hardison grabs him around the waist again. Their skin is hot against each other, sticky in the moist air puffing out of the shower. He glances up to see Parker still holding the shower curtain aside, and there’s something in her eyes; it reminds him of her excitement when she’s about to jump off a building or crack a vault. She looks turned on and hungry.

Eliot holds tight to Hardison, knowing it’ll be the last time he gets this particular handhold and wanting it to last forever. In short order his body reminds him that this isn’t a leisure trip to the shower with the two loves of his life, and he grunts in pain.

Hardison helps him climb over the side of the tub and into the shower proper, and then they’re standing under the spray and Eliot hates to admit it, but his two idiots were right: it feels like heaven with a little burning thrown in as a reminder that he doesn’t deserve to go to heaven.

Hardison holds him in a firm grip under the armpits to avoid losing him to the slip and slide of wet skin in the shower. Parker bounces in after them and pulls the curtain closed.

“I am armed with flowery hotel soap and a wash cloth,” she says holding them up in either hand dramatically.

Hardison holds Eliot under the spray for a few minutes before turning him toward Parker.

“No,” she says plainly, “the other side. I like his other side best.”

“His backside you mean?” Hardison asks, and Eliot doesn’t even need to look to see the smile in his voice because he can hear it.

Parker just raises her eyebrows in answer and twirls her finger in the air.

“Alright, alright,” Hardison says. He turns Eliot easily in his strong grip and then they’re hugging, bodies pressed together.

Eliot wants to cry it feels so good. Good thing his body’s broken or he would have a lot of explaining to do.

Parker starts to soap and massage his back, pressing any tension from the muscles as she goes.

Eliot is putty, and his exhaustion begins to take over. He lays his head down on Hardison’s shoulder, face in toward his neck and sighs heavily, closing his eyes.

He lets the two of them take care of him, just like they promised. He’s never trusted anyone so much, or at all, and it feels good to give in. Hardison is strong and holds him tight, their bodies slick against each other, rough where Hardison’s underwear rubs against Eliot.

“Hardison,” Eliot says softly, the way he does in his dreams; full of longing and a hint of desperation. But he’s too tired and he hurts too much to care how it might sound.

“You alright Eliot?” Hardison’s voice is deep and pure and so full of caring. Eliot doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Better’n alright,” Eliot replies, his accent thickening up.

“We don’t have any pain meds, but shit, I don’t think you need ‘em,” Hardison says, voice puffing against Eliot’s shoulder. He thinks he feels the brush of lips against the skin there, but he doesn’t have the energy to open his eyes and check.

“Just you guys,” Eliot says, only making half-sense. He feels a little drunk with the way his brain is spewing things out of his mouth. “Nobody’s ever taken care’a me b’fore.”

“Well you’re with us now,” Parker says simply. She scrubs at his back a little more before she loudly declares: “Ding! Flip!”

“I’m not a damn grilled cheese Parker,” Eliot grumbles.

This is the part he's dreading, and now he wishes she’d started on the front, because that’s where all the real damage is.

“Alright, here we go Eliot,” Hardison says, gently dislodging Eliot from sleeping on his shoulder to slowly turn him around. Another trip under the spray to clean off the soap and he’s turned back toward Parker.

“Ooooo,” Parker says gleefully as she gets a look.

“No need to look so excited sweetheart,” Eliot grumbles.

“Oooo, this is a good one,” she says, poking at a particularly long gash. She looks up at Eliot and narrows her eyes. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Eliot laughs and it hurts so bad. “Gonna stab me with a fork if I do?”

She smiles and winks before she slides the soap over his wounds.

Eliot grits his teeth and presses back into Hardison. Hardison, who holds him tight, grip tightening with Eliot’s pain, cheek pressing against his own.

“S’alright man,” Hardison says softly. “It’s for the best.”

Parker bends over to get a better look at some of the wounds before scrubbing vigorously at them, first with the soap and then the coarse cloth.

Eliot growls with pain, straining against Hardison’s strong arms. But Hardison holds tight. “Thought you were tougher than this Eliot, man,” he says like it’s a joke, but there’s no grin in his voice.

Eliot turns and presses his face into Hardison’s neck, hoping that somehow the contact that he’s always wanted will dull the pain. His hands come up, one to hold tightly at the back of Hardison’s neck and hold him in place, the other to fist in the shower curtain.

“Don’t be a baby,” Parker says, “I’m almost done.” He looks down to make a face, but her hair is misted with stray droplets from the spray, some caught in her eyelashes. Eliot wants to kiss them away. She looks up, eyes wide, and shares his gaze for a moment, a smirk curling one corner of her sly little mouth. “Ok, he’s good.”

“He gonna live Parker? What d’you think?” Hardison asks as he turns Eliot back into the spray.

As soap washes through and from his wounds Eliot shudders in Hardison’s grip; little ripples of pain that come and go becoming less and less as the wounds are totally cleared. Eliot presses back against Hardison. “Ok, I’m good,” he says, feeling exhausted, but not too exhausted to feel something interesting press against him through Hardison’s soaking briefs. Eliot shakes his head to clear it of stupid thoughts. It’s Parker, that’s all it is; Hardison’s had a thing for her for ages, and he’s in a shower in his underwear with her.

“I just wanna sleep,” Eliot grumbles, pressing back a little harder, selfishly, to feel it again so he can remember.

Hardison’s mouth is near his ear, still speaking in that soft caring way, all the joking gone from his voice. “Your hair’s a mess. Want us to wash it for you?”

“Naw, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Eliot says. He needs to be in bed sleeping. And if he stays in the hot shower with the two of them much longer, how tired or hurt he feels isn’t going to stop his body from getting really interested anyway.

Hardison pulls him away from the spray and helps him back over the lip of the tub.

Parker moves to dry him off, and he grabs the towel. “I’m not completely useless,” he growls. “Lean me up against the counter again and I’ll clean myself up.”

Parker glances over Eliot’s shoulder to Hardison, and he can practically feel the eyeroll.

Parker grabs the towel and pulls hard to get it free of Eliot’s grip. “Let. Us. Take. Care. Of. You,” she gets out through gritted teeth.

“Why?” He asks, completely confused as to why they want to help him so much.

Parked starts to carefully dry him, not rough like she was with the cloth in the shower, but gentle and so careful. “Because we care about you,” she says softly, as though it’s obvious.

“Listen to the woman,” Hardison says, his deep voice rumbling against Eliot’s back. “She knows what she’s talkin’ about.”

Parker’s lips twitch into a small grin but she doesn’t look up from the task at hand of thoroughly drying Eliot’s body without getting fluff from the towel in his wounds. When she’s done she looks his body over and cocks her head to the side. She traces the edge of a slice in his side and looks suddenly emotional. “I thought he stabbed you,” she says in her matter-of-fact way. “Right through the middle.” She jabs his stomach with the tips of two fingers, just a little further in from the wound. “Thought he got you good.” She meets his eye. “Thought you were dead.”

“Almost,” Eliot says, holding her gaze, and then he grins. “I’m too good for that though.”

“Too quick,” she says, vulnerable emotion turning to amusement, her eyebrows raising a little. “Our Eliot is too quick for anyone.”

“And too tough for his own good,” Hardison adds, breath tickling over the clean skin of Eliot’s shoulder.

Eliot smiles and something in him eases, he lets Hardison take more of his weight. He feels right here, no matter how much he fights it, he just fits between these two people.

“Alright, now let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep in my arms,” Hardison grunts, moving toward the bedroom.

One large King size bed takes up the center of the room.

“One bed, really?” Eliot asks.

“Jeeze you’re so whiney when you get stabbed,” Parker says, trotting to the bed , pulling back the covers, and hopping up onto it. Her bra and underwear are soaked, she can’t be comfortable.

Eliot sighs and finds that he can’t care anymore. He’s too tired. He needs to sleep.

Hardison drops him back on the bed, and Eliot half rolls half crawls to the center where he settles in. There are no wounds on his back, so he lays looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t pull the covers up far, knowing from experience that they’ll pull at his closing wounds in the night. He pulls them up just enough to cover all the the parts of his body that should be private, but have been on display all night. 

Parker comes to sit beside him, crosslegged and full of energy, looking like she’s expecting a slumber party.

Hardison comes to the other side and slides his obnoxiously green underwear to the floor.

“Woah, woah! What are you doing man?” Eliot asks, putting up a hand to shield the view he definitely does not want to block.

“Look man, I am not sleeping in wet drawers ok?” Hardison says as the bed dips and he crawls in. The covers lift for a minute letting a chilly little draft of air in, tickling at Eliot’s legs. “This bed is way big enough for us to all share.”

Parker’s face goes curious and she tilts her head a little as she looks down at Eliot, like she’s trying to figure out a tricky combination lock; amused, but knowing she’ll crack it anyway.

“What?” Eliot growls, letting his arm drop now that Hardison is covered up. Covered up, but laying so close... naked.

“Why are you still pretending?” Parker asks, grin growing to a kind smile.

“Pretending what?” Eliot asks.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Parker says. Her face gets a little distant. “People think that I’m stupid about dealing with people. Sometimes I am I guess. But this is pretty obvious.”

“Parker,” Eliot sighs. “What are you talking about?”

She looks at Hardison and then back at Eliot wearing a look that says: “don’t you two idiots get it?” She bounces a little on the bed in excitement. “The way you won’t let Hardison hug you, or touch you. And whenever I’m around all you talk about is the ladies and how suave and experienced you are. It’s so obvious.”

“What’s so obvious?” Hardison asks, shifting in the bed a little when he turns toward the two of them.

“This is so great,” Parker says, bouncing again. “I’m never the first one to figure this stuff out.”

“Figure what out?” Hardison asks.

Parker puts a finger in the middle of Eliot’s chest, pressing firmly. “You. Like us.”

“No I don’t,” Eliot spits the words out too fast.

“Parker, what are you goin’ on about?” Hardison asks.

Eliot closes his eyes and breathes deep. “I just wanna go to sleep. Is that so much to ask.”

“It’s ok,” Parker says, soft in his ear. “We like you too.”

Then he hears the click of the light. When he opens his eyes again it’s dark in the room. Hardison rolls over next to him, and Eliot craves to reach out and touch that beautiful warm skin covering all those rolling muscles. There’s a shift on his other side as Parker settles in, curled toward him. There are no dark bra straps against her skin, and he wonders if she’s stripped down too.

Eliot closes his eyes and wonders how he’s going to sleep in the middle of the two people he wants so badly when they’re naked and maybe want him back. Maybe. Parker’s not good with people, not always good at reading them, and he trusts her to know her own mind, but not Hardison’s. Not about this. This is too important.

What is he even thinking about? This is crazy. Parker is crazy. He’s just tired and hurt and his brain isn’t working right.

His brain starts to run and he knows he won’t be able to sleep, and yet, in no time flat he’s out.

Pressure wakes Eliot. Low in his abdomen there’s a pressure that lets him know he needs to piss. It’s starting to become uncomfortable.

He shifts, waking up slowly, fingers twitching at his sides, and then he realizes that he feels something at each side; something warm and soft and comforting.

The light is starting to come through the curtains but it’s not harsh enough to hurt when he opens his eyes. He looks down. The pressure low on his stomach isn’t just his bladder, it’s two hands laid one on top of the other, and they aren’t Eliot’s; Parker’s delicate slender fingers rest lightly on top of Hardison’s large beautiful hand, which is splayed wide on Eliot’s stomach, almost low enough to be indecent.

The warmth pressing at him from either side comes from Parker and Hardison having moved close in the middle of the night. Eliot wishes he’d woken sooner for no other purpose than to enjoy the feeling of being between these two people, skin pressed against skin, warmth seeping into him.

Instead, his bladder feels like it’s going to explode.

“Damnit,” he mutters.

“You ok?” Parker asks, her voice not the least bit sleepy.

He turns his head to look at her. Her question is genuine, face open and curious.

He’s about to answer when a short choked off snore interrupts him. They both look at Hardison. His face is near Eliot’s shoulder, expression slack, lost to sleep. He snuggles a little closer, nuzzling at Eliot’s skin. Holy shit is it ever endearing. He looks back to Parker and they share a smile; she even giggles a little before she presses the softest barely there kiss to his bicep.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” she says on a whisper.

“Me too,” he barely whispers back.

“You have to pee don’t you?” She asks in the same soft, tender voice.

Eliot lets a little laugh vibrate through him and his head falls back into the pillows. “Yes I do.”

“You have that face on,” she says simply.

“I have a face for that?” He asks.

Parker looks thoughtful for a moment and nods, but doesn’t elaborate.

Hardison shifts again, but his breathing is still deep and even. He’s pressed right up against Eliot’s side now, all the way from knees to chest, and he has some magnificent morning wood that Eliot closes his eyes and tries desperately to ignore and remember at the same time.

Eliot’s going to piss the bed if he doesn’t get up soon, so he shifts in Parker’s direction since she’s already awake and it’ll be easier to get her out of the way.

Hardison makes a noise in his sleep: a demand and a whine rolled into one sound. He slides his hand around Eliot’s side and takes a firm grip, pulling him back.

Hardison’s big beautiful hand takes hold of a chunk of skin that’s still healing, lacerated and only just closed up.

Eliot lets out a grunted sound of pain.

Hardison is immediately awake and his grip tightens harder around Eliot instinctively.

Eliot shouts and the air leaves his body as the pain takes over for a moment.

“Oh shit!” Hardison says, immediately letting go and pushing back a little way. “Oh Eliot man… I’m so… are you alright? I didn’t mean…” he holds out his big hands, letting them hover over Eliot’s skin as though he's afraid to touch him, or can heal him by magic.

“It’s ok man,” Eliot grunts, moving toward the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Parker slips out from under the covers to let him go past. She is entirely naked. Her white skin almost glows in the dim light of the room as she stands there casually like it’s no big deal.

Eliot is stopped by the sheer beauty of her. It’s not just the pale skin, it’s the dancer’s physique she hides under practical clothing and harnesses. Everywhere is hard muscle, no bit of body wasted. She is a machine.

“What?” She asks as though it’s an everyday occurrence to be standing naked in front of them. Although, the more Eliot thinks about it, she’s never been shy or nervous about changing in front of them before.

Hardison speaks up behind him. “It’s just… you’re… with the… no… clothes and…”

“You’re naked too!” She points at both of them.

“Yeah, but I…” Eliot searches for something to say, and just sighs instead. “I’ve gotta piss.” He shuffles off of the bed and walks to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it to have a moment to gather his thoughts.

He hears bits and pieces of conversation come through the door.

“What?” Parker asks again.

Hardison’s deep voice is harder to hear. “You can’t just… naked with…”

“You’re naked too!” She points out, yet again. And she does have a valid point.

“Not the same…” Hardison’s voice gets quiet.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Parker finally says. “And people say I’m crazy.”

Eliot splashes water on his face and slowly peels away the tape around his bandages to check. Hardison’s hard and wonderful grip hadn’t reopened anything and everything still looks good. There’s only a little dried blood on the bandages and he counts it as a win even though he feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

By the time he comes out of the bathroom, Hardison and Parker are almost totally dressed in fresh clothes.

“Where did you guys get-” Eliot starts to ask but Parker hands him a pile of clothing.

“Had Sophie drop us off our spare bags last night,” Parker says.

“Bellboy just brought them up,” Hardison added.

Eliot is all out of shame and doesn’t take the stack of clothing into the bathroom, just dresses in front of them. He’s fastening his belt buckle when Hardison speaks up behind him.

“Hey Parker?” He’s going for casual but failing miserably. It makes Eliot smile.

“Yup?” She answers, digging through her pack for something.

“What was all that talk about last night?”

Eliot stops. He’d been hoping they could avoid this conversation for a while. Or maybe that he’d imagined it, he was so tired. Or even dreamed it.

“What talk?” She asks, still digging, her concentration elsewhere.

Hardison comes over to Eliot. “Here man, let me help you with that,” he grabs Eliot’s Henley and and helps him slip it on without having to raise his arms too high. Then Hardison replies to Parker while he’s still standing too close to Eliot. So close Eliot could wrap his arms around if he wanted, and he does want. “When you were talking about us bein’ idiots and you figurin’ out something first.”

Parker frowns and must be at the bottom of the bag by now. “Oh, that. Eliot’s in love with us,” she says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Eliot’s stunned into silence for a moment before every bit of training in his arsenal goes into work trying to be casual. He laughs a little and looks at Hardison with his “is she serious” look that he’s practiced in the mirror too many times.

But Hardison’s eyes are wide and he looks like a deer in headlights. Like someone’s just spilled his innermost secret. He won’t look at Eliot.

And maybe she’s right. Eliot stops breathing for a minute while he looks at Hardison who is still staring at Parker.

“Aha!” Parker pulls out a pair of socks from the bottom of the bag and sits down on the end of the bed to put them on. She looks up at them. Eliot meets her eye. “You should really kiss him, he’s a really good kisser,” she motions to Hardison before turning her attention to her socks.

“Really? Are you serious right now?” Hardison asks. “I’ve been buggin’ you for over six months to talk about that kiss and now you’re tellin’ me it was a good kiss? Simple as that?”

Parker shrugs and slips on her second sock. “It wasn’t right; starting something without Eliot.”

Eliot’s breath comes back in heaping gulps that fill his chest with adrenaline and passion and excitement and… yes, he’s willing to admit it now… love. He turns abruptly, grabs handfuls of Hardison’s t-shirt and pulls their faces together. Hardison isn’t prepared for it, so the kiss sucks at first. Eliot’s purposeful mouth moving against Hardison’s shocked one. And then Hardison catches on and takes hold of Eliot’s shoulders, pulling him in and humming a sound of longing that vibrates their lips against each other. Eliot pushes him back against the wall and opens his mouth a little. Hardison doesn’t take the invitation, which doesn’t surprise him, but it gives him the opportunity to suck at Hardison’s full bottom lip. And then Hardison’s big deft hand is in his hair, gripping, and Eliot groans, a broken sound that speaks of lost time.

Hardison pushes him back a little. “Sorry… did I… you ok?” He asks, panting.

He mistook Eliot’s sound for physical pain instead of emotional.

“Yeah,” Eliot grunts, letting a smile creep across his lips as he looks up into Hardison’s dark, wide, concerned eyes. “I’m more than ok.”

And then Parker is there suddenly at their side, ducking under their arms until she’s inside the embrace with them. “Told you,” she says with a grin.

Told them what? Eliot’s not sure if she means that Hardison is a good kisser, or that Eliot loves them. But she’s right about all of it, so what does it matter?

They lean toward her together, and kiss at each corner of her mouth, and she kisses them back, and they’re all together. Nothing’s ever felt more right. She loops an arm around each of their necks and hangs off them while they kiss and it feels like they’re suspended from a building in one of Parker’s harnesses from the way Eliot’s stomach swoops and rolls.

Eliot is damaged and yet in the arms of the two people he loves, being loved in return, he feels like the pieces might be coming back together. Maybe he can be whole again.

Eliot’s injured, so nothing more happens. They kiss for a while, and hold each other close (mindful of Eliot’s injuries) until Nate and Sophie call from the front desk. 

They leave as though nothing has happened. As though their relationship is the same leaving Philadelphia as it was when they arrived. Sure, Parker sleeps on Eliot’s shoulder in the backseat on their drive back. But she’s always done that. Sure, Hardison checks up on him regularly throughout the drive, asking how he’s feeling and if they need to stop for a break. But he’s always been mindful of Eliot’s injuries. Now Eliot understands these things better. Yes, they’ve been building a little family. But Nate and Sophie aren’t so soft and tender with him. Hardison and Parker have been telling him they’re more for a while, and Eliot just wasn’t listening. He was so caught up in his own head thinking that he had to choose one or the other, or that neither was interested, or that choosing one meant isolating the other, that he never saw this option.

They get back to Boston and fall back into their rhythm. Eliot’s injuries are extensive and need some time and rest. Nate takes a break looking for jobs, knowing they’re no good without their Hitter.

Eliot spends all his time at Hardison’s. So does Parker.

Hardison has the best apartment. Furnished with overstuffed furniture, and several large screen TVs. 

He’s also got a California King that fits them all easily every night. There’s no question or invitation, they just end up there at the end of every day. Mostly Eliot’s in the middle because they’re still worried about him even though he’s healing.

When they meet up with Nate and Sophie they don’t say anything. The three of them share the same soft, affectionate touches they’ve always shared. Little moments of fingertips on a shoulder that say “don’t forget I’m here” or the bump of elbows that lends to unspoken understandings.

Sophie raises her eyebrow at him and glances at Hardison and Parker play fighting on the couch. Eliot just raises an eyebrow back and shoots her a wink.

Two weeks after the hotel incident that kickstarted everything, the three of them are sitting on Hardison’s couch watching some stupid nerd movie. There are spaceships and weird aliens, but Eliot can put up with it for the cool explosions and occasional fist fight. Parker’s in the middle of them, perched on the back of the couch, feet between them, bowl of popcorn in her lap. Hardison’s head is leaned on one thigh, Eliot’s arm is casually wrapped around her other calf.

The movie’s about halfway through when Parker announces: “Ok, it’s time.”

Before either of them can ask “time for what?” she drops the popcorn onto the cushion at her feet and flips backward off the couch.

Hardison and Eliot turn as one to see her casually pull her shirt off over her head and walk toward the bedroom, unzipping her pants on the way.

Hardison looks at Eliot. “Does she mean time for…” He trails off and they stare at each other for only another moment before they scramble off the couch to follow, pawing at each other as they go and trying to make up for lost time by helping each other with their clothes.

When they get to the bedroom, Parker is milling around and looking at the bed as though it’s a laser grid to navigate. She’s wearing a pair of plain black cotton underwear and nothing else. They haven’t been naked together since the hotel, and her body is all taut muscle just like Eliot remembers. Even her ass isn’t round and soft and bouncy, it looks hard and strong just like the rest of her.

Eliot just about trips out of his pants on his way into the room. And then they’re all standing there in the exact same state of undress: underwear and nothing else. Hardison’s are bright orange today, and look perfect and bright against his beautiful dark skin.

There’s tension in the air, and they all slowly move toward each other, though Parker’s eyes keep darting nervously back toward the bed. Eliot knows that look; he’s seen it before. She’s nervous about this, and not just because it’s with new people or it’s the three of them together. She’s nervous because of sex in general; it’s in her eyes and the way she’s holding her legs one crossed over the other. It looks coy and cute to someone not looking for signs of abuse, but he can see that she’s guarding herself.

As they come in range of one another, they fall together easily, tangling up in a triangle of grasping hands and open mouths and warm bodies. Eliot kisses Hardison and draws soft lines up and down Parker’s back. Parker’s mouth is on Eliot’s neck, nibbling frantically while Hardison tugs at his hair. And then they switch and Parker’s mouth is on Hardison’s and Eliot gets to watch. But even then when they’re getting lost in each other, Eliot watches Parker’s gaze dart anxiously to the bed.

Hardison slides his hands down to both of their underwear at the same time: one hand for Eliot, one for Parker.

Parker takes a simple but firm step back out of their arms.

Eliot understands, he saw this coming, noticed all the signs. Hardison’s shocked, the emotion showing all over his face, his hand still held out in the air where she was just standing as though he’s still hanging onto her.

“That’s ok,” Eliot says, drawing Hardison’s attention with a kiss to his jawline.

“You alright Parker?” Hardison asks, the guilt coming through in his voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally fine. Everything’s totally fine,” she says matter of factly.

Eliot tries to keep the passion stirred up between them, touching Hardison’s hot skin and kissing his throat.

“Doesn’t sound fine,” Hardison says.

“I just…” She looks uncertain, which is such a rarity for Parker that even Eliot stops and listens. “What if… maybe I just… watch this time.”

“Watch?” Hardison asks.

“Well… like… I could be here, in bed with you and maybe just… be here… but not…”

Eliot smiles. He doesn’t want this to be awkward for any of them. So long as she’s here, she doesn’t need to be an active participant. He can tell she wants to be with them, it’s not that. “Well hell, that sounds like just about the hottest thing I could think of,” Eliot says.

Parker’s eyebrows lift as though she’s asking “you sure?” without words.

“Hell yeah,” Hardison says. “You just tell us what you want or don’t. We’ve got you girl.”

Parker’s entire body sags with relief and she steps back into their arms.

“Matter of fact, I think I’ve got an idea,” Eliot says with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah?” Parker asks, back in the moment with them now that she’s had her say.

“Yeah,” Eliot growls, all gravel and southern accent. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close against them. He kisses at her neck and nibbles at her earlobe, eliciting the most beautiful little musical laugh that ends in a snort. Eliot laughs into the cascade of her golden hair.

“Well?” She asks. “What’s the idea?”

“No patience this girl,” Hardison says, kissing at the stretch of muscle between Eliot’s shoulder and neck. “No patience at all.”

“Parker,” Eliot says just before he kisses her lips softly. “You go sit at the headboard, right in the middle, ok?”

Parker nods, and hops away from them, always light on her feet no matter the occasion. She crawls up to the headboard, wiggling her butt on the way.

Hardison and Eliot groan in unison at the sight, hands roaming each other’s bodies. Finally they turn back toward each other and bring their mouths together. And Parker was right, when Hardison is prepared, he kisses like nobody Eliot has ever kissed before. He’s tender and gentle but he’s in command, pressing in and owning the kiss, taking control. It sends a thrill through Eliot’s body, and he slides his hands down to push Hardison’s underwear down. Hardison returns the favour and they’re naked against each other. Their cocks rub against each other's skin, but with the height difference they don't line up. It doesn't matter, just pressing against Hardison's thigh is enough to make Eliot moan into the kiss. Hardison smiles at the sound.

Parker wolf whistles from the bed. Eliot and Hardison rest their foreheads together and break the kiss, turning to look at Parker seated at the headboard, legs tented and spread a little, still wearing her black underwear.

“So what’s this big plan, Eliot?” Hardison asks.

“Jeeze you guys are impatient,” Eliot goes for grumpy, but it comes out fond instead.

“You like it,” Parker grins.

Eliot smacks Hardison’s ass to send him toward the bed. “Alright, now Hardison, you sit between her legs, back against her.”

“Ooooh,” Parker coos, “I like this plan so far.”

“I thought you might,” Eliot says.

Hardison obeys and is soon leaned back against Parker, elbows hooked over her thighs. It looks comfortable. Parker’s hands come around to play with Hardison’s body, her pale fingers drawing lines along his torso, teasing lower and lower. And it’s such a beautiful contrast. He never thought about it before but they are almost opposites: Parker with her bright eyes and pale glowing skin against Hardison’s flawless deep brown skin, and dark warm eyes. They look so beautiful together that Eliot loses his breath for a second and feels a wave of emotion wash through him. This is real. He gets to have this. Gets to have both.

“Well that leaves a nice spot here for you,” Hardison says, patting the bed between his legs.

“Damn right it does,” Eliot replies as he crawls toward them. He leans forward and teases at Hardison’s lips before he sneaks around to kiss Parker instead. He kisses her long and deep and feels her passion in the way she bucks against Hardison. Good. He wants her to be involved too, not just watch. But this way she’ll feel safe.

Eliot breaks the kiss and speaks gruffly into Hardison’s ear. “Have you ever… with a man before?”

Hardison shivers under him. “It’s not that… I mean… I’ve seen some…” He pauses, takes a deep breath and says: “No. No I have not.”

Parker makes a small squeaking sound. “This is exciting,” she says.

“It’s alright man, I’ve got you,” Eliot says.

“Ahem,” Parker says.

Eliot meets her eye and grins. “We’ve got you Hardison.”

“Thank you,” Parker says quietly, closing her arms around Hardison’s middle.

“Alec,” Hardison says quietly.

Eliot sits back and meets his eyes. “What?”

“My first name is Alec.”

Eliot furrows his brow. “I know that. So?”

Hardison looks nervous. “So… you could call me by my first name. I mean if we’re gonna get all up in this and we’re gonna be… well… you know. You could call me by my first name.”

“Why would I do that?” Eliot asks. “You’re Hardison to me.”

Parker snickers. “Alec,” she says, and snickers again. “It’s weird. I like it.”

“It’s not weird,” Eliot says. “It’s a totally normal name.”

Parker laughs again, a little snort tacked onto the end followed by a scoff. “Yeah, just like Eliot right?” Her tone is heavy sarcasm and she rolls her eyes.

Hardison’s eyes widen a little, his eyebrows gather the lines high on his forehead and he meets Eliot’s gaze.

They just share a look and sigh together.

“You got lube in here somewhere?” Eliot asks.

Hardison swallows hard and points to one of the nightstands. “Top drawer.”

Parker keeps massaging and touching Hardison, his large hands playing gently with her calves, occasionally straying lower to tickle her feet, while Eliot crawls off the bed and grabs the bottle of lube from the drawer.

He crawls back onto the bed and presses Hardison’s legs together so he can straddle his thighs. Their cocks line up and slide against each other and Hardison shakes under him.

“Oh god, we really gonna do this?” Hardison asks.

“If that’s what you want,” Eliot says, popping the cap on the lube. “Now’s the time. In or out?”

Parker leans forward to peek over Hardison’s shoulder at the way their bodies fit together. “I’m in!” She votes loudly.

Hardison’s eyes are hungry and needy. He moves one hand from Parker’s calf to massage at Eliot’s thigh. “I’m in. Definitely in,” he says with a heavy swallow.

“Good,” Eliot growls as he leans over and kisses Hardison hard. At the same time, he squeezes out a generous amount of lube and slides his fingers back behind himself. He slides two fingers in immediately. The last few weeks have been trying on his sexual patience. After the kiss in the hotel room, and then spending his nights in bed next to the two people he loves, all he’s been thinking about is this. He’s been using the bottle of lube he stashed in the bathroom to fantasize and play, so he’s more loose than he’d normally be. The prep won’t take long, and he’s so grateful for that because he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“I want to play too,” Parker whines.

Eliot smiles into the kiss with Hardison before he pulls back and looks at Parker, who’s staring back to where his fingers are sinking into his body. “Next time,” he says. “You can help next time, ok?”

“Yeah, ok,” she says, a mixture of excitement and disappointment flashing in her eyes.

Hardison turns awkwardly between them and Parker uses her flexibility to make it work so she can kiss him. Eliot watches, the excitement in his body ramping up as he watches the two people he cares about love each other. It’s a strange feeling, watching these people that mean so much to him share each other and feeling no jealousy. Eliot embraces it. Nothing about them is normal. Why would this be any different?

Sitting back to watch them, the angle isn’t optimal, so he leans forward and presses his forehead to Hardison’s shoulder so he can have more room to work himself open. The sound of them kissing is just as good anyway: wet and sloppy, and the way it makes Hardison’s cock twitch against his is driving him crazy.

Once three fingers are going in and out easily, Eliot nibbles at Hardison’s shoulder to get his attention. “Ok, ok, I’m good,” he growls.

“You’re good?” Hardison gasps turning toward him.

Parker’s hand is on Eliot’s neck, and it’s grounding. He turns and kisses at her wrist, shooting her a smile before he sits up, steadying himself by planting the hand with his wet fingers on Hardison’s shoulder.

“Oh, man, dude, come on that’s just nasty,” Hardison says. “Now I’m gonna be all sticky.”

Eliot smiles and shakes his head. “I’m about to get you a whole lot more sticky,” he says, “trust me, you’re not gonna notice that little bit.”

Hardison sobers a little and nods like he’s deciding the fate of the world.

Eliot is about to coat his palm with lube again and slick Hardison up when he stops.

“What? What’s wrong? You change your mind?” Hardison asks. “That’s totally fine. Mind changing is allowed. 100%. Can’t say’s I blame you if you-”

Eliot ignores Hardison’s nervous babbling and looks over his shoulder at Parker, who’s watching with wide-eyed intrigue. “You wanna play a little?” He asks.

Her eyes widen with joy and she grins.

“Alright, give me your hand,” Eliot demands.

She holds it out palm up like she’s expecting him to put something wonderful in it. Instead he squirts her palm with lube. Which, arguably, is kind of wonderful depending on what you do with it.

“Get him real wet for me, alright?” Eliot asks.

He caps the lube and tosses it aside while Parker reaches over Hardison’s shoulder and stretches to take hold of his cock and spread the lube all over. She’s very thorough. Hardison’s eyes roll back in his head and his hand moves from Eliot’s thigh to hip, gripping tight. He starts to writhe between them.

“Ok, ok,” Eliot says, “enough.”

Parker sits back and wipes the excess lube off on Hardison’s bicep.

“Oh come on, you too?” Hardison complains, glaring at her over his shoulder. “Ya’ll just seem to think I’m your personal Kleenex box, is that right?”

“Something like that,” Eliot says with a grin. He moves forward on his knees until he’s over Hardison’s hips instead of his thighs. “You ready?”

“Am _I_ ready?” Hardison’s voice goes up an octave. “Am _I_ ready? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that question. You’re the one who’s about to-”

“Yes or no Hardison,” Eliot demands.

Hardison swallows again and nods, grip tightening even more on Eliot’s hip. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Don’t blame a man if his performance isn’t great the first time outta the gate, alright? Ya’ll got me all worked up.”

Eliot leans forward and kisses Hardison sweetly, softly. “No judgement,” he says honestly against Hardison’s lips. “Not here. Between us.”

Hardison laughs. “You kiddin’ me?” He asks softly. “We’re always judgin’ each other.”

Eliot laughs and feels something tight in his body that he hadn’t realized was tensed up come loose. He rises up on his knees and takes Hardison in hand to steady him while he sits back down. He goes slow at first, making sure that he’s loose enough and there’s no pain. But he was thorough and it’s not long before he’s halfway there.

Hardison groans loud and deep, a never-ending noise for the first slow slide down. Parker watches curiously with wide eyes like she’s studying vault schematics.

Eliot stops for a second.

“You ok?” Hardison pants after his groan trails off.

Eliot reaches below himself to wrap his fingers around Hardison. He’s still got another two inches to go.

“Damnit Hardison!” He barks.

“What? What’id I do?” Hardison is worried, his eyes frantic as he tries to see the problem.

“There’s more still?” Eliot asks. “Are you kiddin’ me here?”

Hardison sighs and relaxes. “Sorry man, god’s gift you know?”

Eliot breathes deep to relax his body. He closes his eyes and feels Hardison’s hand on his hip, Hardison inside him. He relaxes his leg muscles and slides down the last few inches.

“Huh, look at that,” Parker says.

It makes Eliot open his eyes and laugh, which tenses him up around Hardison, who moans in return and leans back into Parker. It’s perfect. They’re all involved, but in a way where Parker is still comfortable.

And it feels so good.

“Eliot,” Hardison’s breath is shaky, his eyes so full of heat Eliot’s heart beats faster. “God Eliot I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s ok,” Eliot says. He puts a hand to the back of Hardison’s neck and leans down to kiss him again. “It’s ok.” They gasp into their kisses, mouths open enough to let air in and out. Eliot moves while they’re locked together like that, bringing his hips up slowly and then back down.

Hardison’s hand moves up Eliot’s body until it’s fisted in his hair, tugging gently. How does he know so intuitively what Eliot likes?

Eliot moves faster. He doesn’t even care if he gets off, he just wants Hardison to come, wants to make him feel so good.

He sits back away from Hardison’s mouth so he can set a better rhythm, but notices Parker still watching with awe. He leans forward again, over Hardison’s shoulder. “Come here,” he demands roughly.

She smiles playfully and presses forward to kiss him. Kissing Parker it so different from Hardison. She kisses like she does anything: quick and with purpose and a little playfulness. Her tongue darts in and out of his mouth, where Hardison’s likes to linger and stroke at his tongue. Parker makes more noises: little groans and moans and giggles that travel down his throat like bubbly champagne.

Hardison is tensing up under him and making the best noises.

Eliot sits back again and starts to set a harder rhythm, with one purpose in mind: making Hardison orgasm.

He watches Parker press against Hardison’s back as she looks on; little swivels and rolls of her hips that are pressing her against the hard body in front of her.

Suddenly Hardison grabs Parker’s hand and brings it to his mouth. He locks eyes with Eliot while he kisses her fingers and then licks a large wet stripe across her palm. He draws her hand down and she wraps her fingers around Eliot.

It’s perfect. Just the way he likes: tight and a little rough, with not quite enough lubrication. She times the strokes with the rise and fall of his hips. Eliot had been on edge, but not so close. Until Parker touched him and now his orgasm is racing up and down his spine like electrical current until it sparks and he goes off. His entire body goes taut and he comes on Hardison’s stomach and chest, some on Parker's hand. He babbles some words but doesn’t even hear them because his body is in overload. He closes his eyes and gives into the sensation, Parker still stroking him tight and fast.

He feels Hardison thrust into him and then his body goes rigid too. He bucks a few more times, slow and lazy, using Eliot’s body to stroke himself through orgasm.

They both collapse, muscles going lax, and then Eliot’s body jolts like he’s been tazed. Parker’s hand is still moving on his cock.

“Hnnngh, Parker, I can’t…” Eliot groans. The combination of sensitive skin and her fingers slick with spit and come pushes a laugh deep out of his stomach. “Come on… I can’t… you gotta…”

“Mama, give the man a break,” Hardison says with a huffed chuckle.

Parker’s hand stills and pulls away. Eliot opens his eyes to see Hardison holding her wrist.

“Oh come on, you liked it,” she says.

And they’re all in a heap together. And they’ve just had sex together. And Eliot has never felt better or more clear headed or more sure of anything in his whole life.

Hardison kisses Eliot’s temple. And then again. And again. It’s such a simple gesture, but there’s so much love in it that Eliot feels a few tears fall. There’s so much sweat between them no one will ever know, but Eliot’s not ashamed of it either. Hardison’s big arms wrap around him, and Parker’s hands are in his hair rubbing softly. And they’re all one.

Eliot drifts. Sated and happy in a way he’s never been in his entire life. It says so much that he’s willing to sleep in their arms; they probably don’t understand the amount of trust involved, but Eliot does and that’s enough.

It says even more when he’s woken by Hardison’s big hands moving him, and he doesn’t lash out. Hardison moves him off and into the pillows, his deep soft voice gentle as it drifts through Eliot’s half-sleep.

“We got you man, don’t you worry,” Hardison says. There are kisses from both of them.

Eliot rouses enough to feel a smile cross his face. “Love you guys too,” he mumbles out; words he wouldn’t say if he were fully awake.

Hardison makes a happy little sound and kisses him again, Parker’s hands are in his hair.

“Told ya,” she says.

Eliot presses his face into the pillows, his muscles aching in the best way.

Hardison’s big hands move him around (lifting a leg, rolling him over) while they clean him up with a warm wet cloth. Eliot lets them, which surprises even himself. But he doesn’t want to move. The bed is warm and it smells like all of them together and sex and he wants to keep riding the high they built, his body still thrumming with it despite how tired he is.

“Can we sleep yet?” Parker asks, pressing her body in next to Eliot’s, her nimble thief’s fingers running expertly through his hair again.

There’s another pass of the cloth, the water on it starting to cool, the friction getting close to uncomfortable from the number of times Hardison has run it over his skin.

“Damnit Hardison,” Eliot grumbles, “I’m clean. Now get your ass over here and let me sleep already.”

Hardison rumbles a little laugh. “I see how this is gonna be,” his voices fades a little as he goes back to the bathroom, “nag, nag, nag all the time. That’s all this is gonna be, ain’t it?”

Eliot smiles but doesn’t say a thing.

And then the bed dips and Hardison is there, and they’re boxing Eliot in, keeping him in the middle as they have been the last few weeks during his recovery. And again, being trapped like this is something that should worry Eliot, something that should put his hackles up. But it doesn’t. He’s surrounded by the people he cares about.

He’s on his side, and Parker throws an arm around from behind, pulling him close to her hard body that looks like it should be soft but isn’t. Hardison comes close and tucks Eliot into his chest, throwing an arm over both of them. It’s perfect and Eliot relaxes into being loved.

Eliot Spencer is broken. There’s no doubt in his mind. He once thought he was too damaged to be loved or love properly, but he was wrong. And the people he loves are slowly putting him back together, day by day, piece by piece. He may never be entirely whole again, but Hardison and Parker will fill up the spaces that can’t be mended, and make him a person again.


End file.
